Woodford Folk Festival: a Mud Odyssey
Let me officially go on record by saying this has been:
a) the wettest Woodford ever;
b) the wettest Woodford ever; and
c) the only way I console myself while trudging through the muddiest mud-pits is by convincing myself that I’m fulfilling my childhood fantasy of walking through a world made of melting chocolate.
But even so, it is still…well, Woodford.
I’ve had two beautiful gigs thus far – one on the first night with my gorgeous sister Ang accompanying me on keys for an improvised song devised by an audience suggested title of “Gumboots are better with socks.” Then yesterday was my personal fave event of the whole festival, The Great Debate, where us comedian lot went head to head on the topic: “There’s no business like show business.” My fave moment: Steady Eddie proclaiming the irony of Woodford is that “we’re paying for anarchy.”
My daughter videoed a bit of it too, so will upload that when I’m not otherwise occupied pulling bits of mud out of my ears.
I must admit, the first day I was freaked out by the wet so much that I doubted being capable of embracing the full magic that is this festival. But (thankfully) I was wrong, wrong, wrong.
Personal highlights thus far:
– having my mind twisted as far as the onstage cutlery in the mind-altering nuttiness known as the Space Cowboy. He bends metal, swallows everything in sight and juggles chainsaws on a 3 meter “suicycle.” And smiles pretty much the entire time. Insanity. Then finishes off wishing everybody “a beautiful and freaky life.” Loves it.
– hanging with my daughter all over the countryside, particularly lovely seeing as her very first Woodford she was all of four months old and hanging off the frong of me in a sling. Nowadays she’s trudging militantly throughout the festival streets determined to soak up as much goodness as she can. When I asked her what she loved about Woodford, she didn’t even bat an eyelid: “Because…it’s WOODFORD!”
– being asked for my first autograph and also having a little kid come up and wave to me, beaming: “Hello comedian person!”
Magic is real and at Woodford, I’m pleased to say, that mud or no, it remains rampant.